Dear Lily
by Black Boxed
Summary: Severus writes a 'Dear John' letter to Lily in the weeks following her death. He spills his wishes and regrets as he mourns his loss in a bottle of whiskey. Mostly canon. [Rated T for Alcohol Usage]


**AN: This story is betad'd as of now. Thanks to Muffin (glitter blizzard) for beta reading this for me.**

**It's a bit difficult to write Severus. Even though he is half of my OTP, I've always had a hard time since his character is so complex. I don't believe Severus would have ever spoken these words to Lily even if she hadn't died, but I do believe he would have thought them or had many 'what if' thoughts that plagued him years after her death. I do hope that I managed to portray him honestly without being ****_too_**** mushy. If you have any tips and/or critiques on how to portray him more accurately, I'd love to know. - Chris**

**Prompts: Delicious and Trap**

* * *

Dearest Lily,

I wish I could know just where to begin with this letter. Of all the words I want to express, it appears as though my mind cannot clear of this hazy numbness. My fingers have been moving for ages, tapping against my desk anxiously. I learned to use a quill when I was a child. Now, only now, my quill remains motionless and my inkwell has run dry. A piteous excuse, but I find myself already in desperate need for a break. I'm wary, tired, and perhaps even frightened. My trembling hands desire inexpensive glass and my lips crave the bitter-sweet sting of liquor. A drunkard would never need the drink if only he had the woman. How clever it is that the saying is still fitting, "A woman drives the man to drink." It does go both ways, does it not?

Today was the day I lost you. Forever is a long time, and that is what I have done to us. If only I could have perceived the damage I would cause, and by my own tongue... But I was furious. You see Lily, you live up to your name in every way. You _are _the loveliest of flowers. Pure and innocent.

The first day upon that hill, I could feel your proximity and my eyes scanned the perimeter with hope and longing, even without knowing quite what it was I were searching for. Red curls that swayed in the wind, and the delightfully rosy cheeks to match; that was my first vision of you and what a vision it was. I knew... I knew instantly what you were. You were like me, and for that I saw us as equals. No blood status or social class mattered. Not only did it not matter because of my own broken status, but because we were mere children of seven years old. We knew no prejudice towards each other.

Never one good with people—I'm still the same—but something drew me to you like a moth to a flame. I wanted to know you, and so I said "hello" and that was enough. Your eyes are like a book, Lily. Whether your angry, happy, or unbearably sad, I can see right through your emerald eyes and into your soul. I could see your kindness and your curiosity; your mischievous nature and your desire for knowledge. Even before you had uttered a word to me in greeting, even before I opened my mouth in pleasantries, I believed that I had already fallen helplessly, deeply for you.

Deep down I'm still thrilled that I had the ability to approach you; yet at the same time, I find myself secretly angry at myself. If only I had stayed away you might still walk by my side, even if you weren't walking with me. You were a spider, and I walked willingly into your trap. You wrapped me up in a silky cocoon of warmth and naive happiness that broke me out of my every day gloom. And with you, only with you, I felt pure and innocent myself. How could anyone resist that?

The fondness I felt for you only increased as years passed. You grew in front of my eyes from child to woman. I'm not a charming person nor a white knight, Lily, but I am still very much a man. I found myself wanting to run my fingers though your hair and touch your delicious lips with my own. I memorized the curves of your body, knowing with absolute entirety that you would never feel the same for me. You had me—have me memorized.

Lily, I always had this notion that you would run to _him_. It simply made sense that you, the woman I so adored, would run to the boy who I found to be my enemy at the time. You would not have known at the time, but as a young male, I could see it. It was typical boyish nature to tease the girl you liked. When he hexed your hair or put sticking charms on your shoes... it was due to the blatant fact that he noticed the same qualities as I did during that moment upon the hill. We were two dogs fighting for the prize: you.

Until I realized I had lost you.

That moment where I chiseled a crack into your heart as it turned to stone against me. I was your childhood friend, Lily. Of all the people whom you should have trusted, I fell short.

Two weeks before, that was when the gods presented me with two temptations; two paths, and one led to you. The other was dark and mysterious and I found myself overwhelmed with curiosity. I had the audacity to believe that walking down one path, would somehow unleash a new path, a short cut, that would lead you to me whenever I went. I was wrong... and when I said _that_ word, I saw the change instantaneously. Those emeralds that I knew like the back of my hand, the ones that were so bright with love and gentleness, turned dull as they met my gaze. Behind the furry that could make them shine so bright, they were murky and lacklustre, but only when turned in my direction. That was my first mistake.

I regretted it instantly.

In my guilt, I all but fled down that second path. It was what I sought after as a beacon of hope with the notion that it would pull you back, that it would beckon you just as it did me, but you knew better. You knew more than I, that the path I walked on was a dark one. I envied that about you; the fact that you knew better. I was half way down that path of Dark Arts when I got the news. The words were a simple whisper from a 'friend' who chuckled in amusement, but the words echoed loud in my ears, rattling through my brain and thrashing down though my chest, battering my heart.

_Lilly Evans is going to marry James Potter, don't you know?_

There were numerous bottles of whiskey downed the weeks following that piece of information. I drowned in liquor. I vaguely remember the moment I decided to pledge my soul to the devil on earth and take the Dark Mark, but the memory of how it was etched into my skin still remains vivid even after all this time. The second I saw the skull glaring at me, angry jet black against my skin, I felt invigorated. I felt powerful. I felt possessive, obsessive even. I felt like you'd be mine once more. It was a body experiences. I felt it with certainty, but alas it was all a deceptive illusion.

Did you know I watched you the day of your wedding? I felt like a stalker in that moment, but there was a part of me, perhaps my inner child speaking, that was pleased to see your joy. Mostly, however, I felt enraged. You were walking down the isle in a white dress to a man that I loathed. His friends at his side all smiling happily. Potter's grin was ear to ear and I could see yours reflecting the bliss. In that moment, egotistical, air-headed, arrogant James-bloody-Potter had everything I ever wanted. He had you.

Each time I witnessed you, your precious _husband, _and all of his friends battle against us. Each time, did my best to protect you. I now wonder if you knew. Your quick perception always was remarkable. Greyback had his sights on you at one time. I hated your bravery in that moment, even Potter wouldn't have wanted you to go on such a suicide mission, but I had experienced your stubbornness first hand. And Greyback sat watching you as you walked into his trap. It was I who distracted him, by throwing hex after hex into his side, not your beloved Potter as you so believed.

And then you were pregnant.

A tiny infant, no larger than a pea, growing inside of you. Half you. Half Potter. Not me.

The child should have been mine, Lily. I would have loved the boy dearly. I would have tried to atone the harshness my own father bestowed on me. I would have protected him fiercely. I would have taught him things, with you by my side, as my wife. The family we could have been... and in that image I drowned myself in the drink for the second time in a single year.

Weeks passed until the drink ran and my mouth was parched yet again with only the lust for alcohol. It was then at the Hogs Head Inn, that I heard the prophecy. Once thrown out, I ran to the Dark Lord. I told him the information that I held. It spilt out of my mouth like water from the tap. He promised me to keep you safe. I hate myself for believing him. The Dark Lord is nothing but an empty promise.

For once you hadn't been on my mind. It was the worst decision a drunk could make. I didn't do the deductions, I didn't calculate, I hadn't been smart enough to—to realize that it was you. Your child in the prophecy. Only later, once I reflected through sober eyes did I realize. I vowed never to drink again in hopes that my judgement would never become impaired again.

And then you went into hiding, and my heart hammered in my chest, beating louder and louder with each haggard breath. You were out of sight, and I couldn't protect you any longer. Bloody Black. The news were everywhere! If I had only known where you were, I would've stood at your side when the Dark Lord came. I would have taken your son and ran. I'd have tried to give you a chance.

But I didn't know, and I wasn't there.

I finally found you, much earlier than anyone else. The entire outside of the house was nothing but soot, ash, and smoke. The door was barely upright, but I walked through it none the less. The first thing I saw, was Potter, laying on the ground at the door. I wish I could say I cared, but in that moment, nothing mattered except for you. A baby's crying led me further into the house, and I stepped over Potter without a second thought. The cries met me, loud and clear in the doorway of a tiny nursery, and you were laying face first on the ground.

The boy you used to play with as a little girl died that night completely, and I walked out of that fallen rubble hardened and cold. I placed the crack in your heart with my childish words, but that night, it was my heart that burst open, unhinged, leaving me numb.

I regret many things in my life. I regret the words I never said, the kiss I never gave, I regret the anger that I felt. I held you in my arms that night begging the gods to bring you back, wishing foolishly for a miracle, and longing for just one moment more so that I could tell you what I needed to.

And that is why I wrote this letter.

Though, it may be wet from tears, it may smell of liquor, and it may have the scrawl of a drunk who broke his promise of sobriety, it is the only thing I have left. It is the only piece of closure I can provide myself with, despite the fact that I will never feel at piece. With the last bit of warmth leaving my body, I leave with one last promise. Your son will be protected with the hope that one day you can forgive me for everything I've done to you, despite the fact that I know I am undeserving of your forgiveness.

If there is one thing I want you to know, it's that I love you. My heart was—is yours, and will be for all eternity. My life is no longer mine to live, I live it for you, solely. Only You.

_Always..._

**Thank you for reading.**


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